


A Glance or Two

by Murf1307



Series: Roommates 'Verse [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire are paired as roommates in their freshman year of university.  Grantaire arrives two days late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Glance or Two

"Well, I’ll be damned," comes a voice from the doorway.

Enjolras doesn’t even start in surprise, just tilts his head up and glares.  Because it’s been two days since Freshman Move-In Day, and if his roommate has finally decided to appear, he deserves the full brunt of his most withering Look.

And the boy just laughs.  "Sorry.  Interrupting something riveting, I’m sure."

"Voltaire’s  _Candide_.  A little pleasure reading."  Enjolras keeps his voice chilly. "And you are late."

"Most people call me R, or ‘hey, asshole,’ but Late works too.”

He’s outright  _baiting_  Enjolras now.  Enjolras can see it in the upturn of his lips and the way he’s leaning against the doorframe, easy and loose, and he’s not going to take that bait.

Instead, he shrugs.  "Are you going to need help with your things?"

‘R’ shakes his head and shifts aside, pulling two duffel bags and a bag full of what looked like art supplies onto his shoulders, stepping into the room with an easy sort of grace.

That’s when the smell of alcohol mixed with paint hits Enjolras with all the force of an oncoming train.

"Are you  _drunk_?" he asks R almost disbelievingly.

"Not drunk enough for that bullshit.  I can already tell you’ve got a stick up your ass."  R shifts, dropping his bags onto his bare mattress.  "I drink.  I make art. You practically won’t know I’m even here, I swear."

"Somehow I doubt that."  Enjolras goes back to his reading, trying to ignore the boy on the other side of the makeshift wall of school-provided dressers.  

He finds he can’t, and turns his attention to studying his new roommate.  R works silently, diligently; he takes great care with his art supplies, but not so much with his clothes or toiletries — which were in a gallon Zip-Loc bag — or anything else.

Then he tries to start putting his sheets on his bed.  Pulling the mattress out, he misjudges and backs into the dressers, yelping in confusion.

"We need to move these fucking dressers," R says.

"We can do that," Enjolras replies magnanimously.  "Tell me where, and I’ll help."

R laughs.  "I can handle it."

"I’m not just going to sit here…the dressers are heavy."  Enjolras stands up as R examines the bed.

"You can help me loft the bed.  I can shove my dresser underneath."  R turns and smirks a little, like he’s expected Enjolras to back out, or be unable to pull his weight.  That, more than anything, is what makes him want to do it.

He walks around the dressers and stands by the bed, waiting for direction.

They get the bed lofted easily enough, and Enjolras smirks at his new roommate — and the intended  _I told you I could_ comes across loud and clear, since the quirk of R’s eyebrow plainly says  _Maybe this could work._

The fact that they’re already communicating through body language alone is mildly unsettling, but Enjolras tells himself it might be useful.

His phone beeps as R is still tossing his belongings into dresser drawers.

It’s Combeferre.

 **Combeferre:** Do you want to meet me and Courf for dinner?

Enjolras sighs a little, which draws R’s slanted attention his way. 

 **Enjolras:** My roommate is unpacking.  Is it polite to invite him along?

The next text is from Courfeyrac.

 **Courfeyrac:** So he finally showed up??? BRING HIM ALONG.

Enjolras laughs a little.  Courfeyrac said he wants to see if it’s possible to become friends with the entire freshman class (some 800 students), and Enjolras is sure that he’ll get at least an eighth of the way there.

R looks at him again.  “Something funny?"

"My friends would like to invite the both of us to dinner," Enjolras says, smiling.  “One of them is particularly enthusiastic about it."

R tips his head to the side, considering.  Then he nods.  “Hell, why not."

So they go.

————————————————————

It’s…not an utter disaster.  They walk into the cafeteria and are immediately accosted by Courfeyrac, who takes one look at R and says, “Oh, you’re gonna be _fun"_ before dragging them to a table.

Courfeyrac has amassed another eight people, one of whom blinks in recognition and surprise when she sees R.

"Grantaire?!" she says, and gets up to drag him away from the table to talk to him in private.  Enjolras has no idea what’s going on, but gets swept up in the throng of new faces.

There’s Cosette, who’s been friends with Eponine — the girl who’d pulled R ( _Grantaire_ ) away — since practically the cradle, and Jehan, who also knows him and wears flowers in his hair.  Musichetta isn’t even a student here, but is visiting her boyfriends, Joly and Bossuet (who seem like pleasant enough guys, actually).  Feuilly and Bahorel round out the group, rough-and-tumble looking sorts, but where Bahorel is loud and rowdy, Feuilly is quiet and observant.

When Eponine finally comes back with R —  _Grantaire_  — he looks a little nervous.  “So it looks like your friends found my friends," he says, and it’s almost awkward. 

“That’s good,” Enjolras presses.  He’s not very good at small talk.  “I think.”

Grantaire laughs.  “I hope, since it means we wouldn’t be able to get away from each other if we wind up hating each other.”

Enjolras flinches a little.  He doesn’t want to think about that, because, aside from the alcohol, Grantaire seems nice enough.  But Enjolras himself can be hard to get along with, and they both seem to be very different people.

So conversation between them dies away.

When dinner is done – more than two hours later, after Bossuet has tripped twice and there’d been almost a screaming fight between Jehan and Bahorel over the relative merits of Byron versus Ginsberg – the group disperses, and Enjolras and Grantaire wind up the last ones left in the cafeteria.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Enjolras ventures.

“No, it wasn’t.”  Grantaire actually sounds surprised.

Enjolras doesn’t push him on it, and quiet falls again for a long moment before suggesting, “Do you want to go back to the room?  I know you still have things to put away.”

Grantaire looks at him, considers with that head-tilt again, and nods.

Enjolras isn’t sure why he’s so unnerved, why something clammy has taken up residence in the pit of his stomach, or why, whenever Grantaire turns attention to him he becomes – almost  _reserved_ , even though he’s loud and boisterous with the others.

He just hopes things turn out for the best.


End file.
